Pasta and Pizza
by dorylover
Summary: A Germany and Italy friendship because I've been told there are few of there out there. No slash or pairing or whatever, just a nice friendship.


**Hey people. So, you might be asking why this isn't Percy Jackson. Well, I'm sticking my fingers into different fandoms, and this happened to be the first one I thought of. Inspired by my friend because there really are no true Germany/Italy friendship fics out there according to her. I hope you enjoy! Apologies if the characters are OOC, I really tried hard not to make them so.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Not sure who does (Funimation I think) but it's not mine.**

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**In Germany's House**

It was late afternoon and Germany was hunched over his desk drawing out plans for Japan and Italy to follow during their next training session. He was just finishing his idea to bribe Italy with pasta when the telephone started to ring. Germany ignored it and it finally stopped.

_Silence. _Germany thought. _This is nice. _He continued to outline Japan's training. _I must remember to keep cats away from our training area. _Germany thought, remembering all too well the last time Italy saw a cat.

His small flashback was interrupted by the phone ringing for a second time. Germany sighed in annoyance and pushed the source of his annoyance to the edge of his desk.

He tuned out the phone and focused of a report that came in the previous day from Romania. Bad news: the Allies, mainly Russia, were closing in on his northern border. Incompetent man, can't hold off troops at all. Germany scribbled down a note to himself to deploy a small number of troops to Romania first thing in the morning.

He sighed in satisfaction at the day's work. He opened his desk drawer and swept a large pile of childish drawings done by Italy into it. Come to think of it, where was Italy today? He was strangely absent. It's not like he didn't mind the quiet, but not having Italy's constant whining and hyperactivity was odd and not the norm.

Germany stood, his desk chair rolling away as he did so. As he made to leave, the phone rang for a third time. He cursed loudly in German and for the first time that day, answered.

"Hello?"

"Germany! Germany! Help!" A small childish voice wailed from the other side of the call. "I've been captured by England. He said he would give me pizza, but when he did, it was awful! Not like true pizza at all!"

Germany sighed and slammed the phone into its cradle. _Typical Italy, getting captured by the enemy. _He thought. _And all for what, pizza?_

Germany walked out of his office and called to Japan that he was leaving for a bit. Minutes later, he was on a plane speeding towards England's house.

**A couple hours later**

Britain was whistling and feeling pretty good about himself. He had just captured Italy, one of the main three of the Axis Powers. Admittedly, he was the weakest link, but capturing ⅓ the enemy was still an accomplishment. America was lounging around on the couch with a huge plate of hamburgers in one hand and a remote in the other, changing channels so quickly, the screen was a blur. A small fight broke out between China and France over whose food was better and China was readying her battle stance against France.

Britain looked over to his captor and realized he was passed out on the floor, snoring quietly. He remembered only a couple hours ago when Italy was using his only phone call to call Germany and complain about being captured. After he was done, he started to hyperventilate and blubber uncontrollably. _How does Germany put up with this crybaby?_ I wondered.

His musings were cut short by a loud banging noise at his front door. Britain got up and opened the door to find a very annoyed Germany standing on his doorstep.

"Germany, what an unpleasant surprise. What're you doing here?"

"I'm here to reclaim my ally." Germany replied, looking past Britain and at the snoring Italy.

Britain laughed loudly. "You wish Germany. He's mine now."

Germany looked over at Italy again and almost as if his stare was magical, Italy woke up. He spotted Germany standing a couple feet away from him and started to struggle against his bonds. "Germany! Germany! You came! It was awful. The pizza was a lie!"

Britain face palmed and glared at Italy. "The little idiot wouldn't shut up about my cooking." He motioned to Russia who quietly moved over to Italy and gently laid a piece of duct tape over his mouth.

Germany sighed and shrugged. He reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out a piece of paper. "If you want to keep him, here are some instructions." He inclined his head and started back down the path and back to his car.

Britain took a look at the paper. On it was a list of three items:

1) Provide him with a nice girl  
2) Provide him with pasta  
3) Never let him near your supply of white cloth.

Britain finished the list in no time and shook his head in disbelief. Really? Was Italy some kind of pet? He turned away and closed the door. As soon as he did, he realized that Italy had somehow escaped his bonds and was currently sewing white flags from a nearby throw blanket.

"Mr. Britain. I'm sewing yo a white flag to surrender with." He announced proudly. Almost like he was possessed, he threw aside his cloth and jumped around the room shouting about wanting pasta and better pizza.

England groaned and gritted his teeth, getting more and more annoyed as Italy rambled on. He finally got fed up enough to open the door again and pray that Germany hadn't left. He praised the gods he didn't.

"Germany! Wait!" Britain called. "You can have him back."

Germany rolled down the window and poked his head out. "Oh really? And why is that?"

Britain stood aside and allowed Germany to see the inside of his house with Italy running amok. "Do you see what's happening?"

He smirked. "Italy often does that." He sighed. "Give him here."

Italy was dragged outside and shoved towards the open car door where Germany was waiting.

"Germany! You came to get me." Italy cried, tumbling into the backseat.

_Why do I always rescue him? _Germany asked himself. To Italy, he inclined his head slightly. "Come Italy, we're going home and having dinner."

Italy's amber eyes widened and sparkled with excitement. "Pasta?"

Germany nodded. "Yes Italy, pasta."


End file.
